


Of Burning Skin

by Flip_wizard



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, But also, Canon Asexual Character, Multi, Sex-Repulsed Character, Touch Aversion, Touch-Starved, minor Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 18:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21378241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flip_wizard/pseuds/Flip_wizard
Summary: Truthfully, Jon's never liked touch, even before it hurt.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 9
Kudos: 228





	Of Burning Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Also titled, the fic in which I project my touch aversion onto Jon Archivist  
This was written in like under an hour because I have feelings about Jon, and those feelings are needing to project all of my feeling and problems onto him. Anyway have some Jon and his relationship to touch angst lmao.  
Just like ignore any grammar/spelling errors.

Jon’s skin burns. Always has, really. Ever since he was young, the thought of someone else’s skin against his own has made his skin crawl. His grandmother had been abundantly concerned throughout his youth, taking every chance she could to hug him, hold his hand, rest her arm on him, no matter how much he hated it. It only made it worse that, for the few times that Jon had wanted the affection, attempted to actually initiate the touch between them, that his grandmother had refused him, joked about his attempts and effectively destroyed his relationship with touch. He thinks that maybe it’s because of this that he despises sex, more than he thinks is normal even for other people like him. The thought of someone pressed close to him skin to skin, makes his crawling skin tear open. 

His first boyfriend wants more from him than he can give, wants touch in a way Jon can’t provide. Jon had thought he was okay with his lack of interest in sex, but it wasn’t just about the sex, it was that Jon could barely stand holding hand, could barely bear sharing a bed, because, god forbid, their limbs interlock in the night. They break up quickly, harshly. And Jon continues through more unhappy relationships and decides that he is the broken one, he is the one who needs fixing. So he stops voicing his distaste, holds his partner’s hand and lets them kiss his cheek, no matter how much the fire beneath his skin burns him as he does.

When he meets Georgie, for the first time in his life he thinks that maybe touch could be good, could be safe. He stays silent, lets her touch him, even if it hurts, because it doesn’t hurt as badly as it usually does. So when she kisses him on the lips and when her hands explore his body he forces a smile onto his lips. But Georgie is smart, too smart for him, because she notices his stiffness, his disgust. And she thinks its disgust for her, disgust at being with her, and Jon can’t think of the right words to explain this broken part of him. So the last weeks of their relationship are marked with Jon desperately trying to get Georgie to touch him, to prove he can do this. Their end is explosive and it's a good few years before Jon actually explain what happened, a good few years before Georgie can look at him again. 

As he works at the archive, somehow, he gets more used to casual touch, it’s a necessity really, what with Tim and his need for contact. It’s nice, if Jon had to be honest, the casual nature of it, no ulterior motive, no attempt to fix him, just Tim being himself, casual touches and all.

His slowly softening distaste is shattered when Jane Prentiss attacks, though, because now, now everytime he thinks about someone touching his arms, his face, his  _ anything _ he can feel the worms tunneling into his skin, can feel the excruciating pain of it all. It only gets worse with the passing years, with each excruciating experience. You’d think it’d get easier to be hurt after he’d let himself be destroyed for so many years, but it doesn’t; each time someone pulls a knife across his skin, burns him, hits him, kill him hurts just as much, hurts  _ more _ . It doesn’t help that the people he had begun to trust refused to touch him, refused to hold his head in their hand because he was a monster. And monsters don’t deserve comfort. and maybe, maybe he had been a monster all along, maybe the burning had been a warning. He doesn’t try to get closer to them, lets himself drift away. 

Daisy comes close to comfort, to love, when she comes back from the buries, too tired and weak to hold any of the hate she used to carry, but Jon can’t get the image of her with the knife, can’t get over the hurt to relish the comfort. And it’s stupid, really, because he should just accept anything he can get, no matter what. But the dried daisies only feed the fire under his skin, only work to make him worse. So Daisy stops trying to rest her hand over his when he can’t breath, stops trying to rub his back while he worries himself sick over Martin. And so Daisy stops, and the fire burns just as bright as before, but it stings in a distinctly new way that Jon doesn’t understand.

  
But then he meets Martin, really  _ meets _ Martin in the lonely. Martin who asks before he gives Jon hugs, warns him when he's passing him by. Asks him if it’s alright when he reaches towards his hand. And for the first time, Jon wants to feel someone, want to take Martin’s hand in his own while they sit on the couch. Wants their legs to tangle in the small bed they share in the safehouse. Wants to feel the weight of Martin’s head on his chest when he’s fallen asleep while Jon reads. He meets Martin and suddenly. Suddenly, Jon’s skin yearns.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, this is probably bad, but I'm too tired to care.


End file.
